Page 60 of Her Royal Highness
Flora’s fingers tap over the screen, and I make a grab for the phone with a laugh. “What are you doing?”
“Posting this amazing shot of us to your Instagram because I know you won’t,” she replies. “Or if you do, you’ll forget to give us the filter that makes us the prettiest.”
“Right, because you need a filter for that,” I say, the words just tumbling out, and Flora looks up at me, nose crinkling.
“Are you calling me pretty, Quint?”
My face flames hot, and I make another grab for the phone, but Flora is already turning away with a triumphant “Ha!”
She hands the phone back to me then, and there we are on my Instagram, windblown and laughing, the Old Man of Storr barely in the shot. Then I read the caption.
Two “stone”-cold foxes at Storr!
“That is... a terrible geology pun,” I tell her, but I’m grinning like an idiot.
“Oi!” Flora cries with mock outrage. “Points for trying at least!”
I slip my phone back into the pocket of my jacket. “Don’t you have to be careful about that kind of thing?” I ask her. “Putting pictures of you up on the internet and stuff?”
Flora takes off her sunglasses, polishing them with the ends of her scarf. “A bit. I’m not allowed to have any social media, of course, and I’m sure at some point, someone will find that shot on your page and it will end up on one of the blogs or in a magazine, but...”
She shrugs. “It’s not exactly a scandalous picture, and I wanted to take it. So I did.”
“I wanted to, so I did,” I say. “Basically your motto.”
Flora lifts her chin at that. “Oooh, I might see about having that officially added to my crest!”
She turns away then, missing the way my mouth drops open a little bit. Right. Shehas a crest. Because princess.
Shaking my head, I jog to catch up with her, and the two of us are almost to the front steps when a voice says, “There you are.”
We stop there in the front courtyard, the fountain burbling to our left as a tall brunette walks down the front steps. She’s wearing black pants tucked into high glossy boots and a white blouse with an honest-to-god tweed vest. Even though it’s dim outside, an expensive pair of sunglasses rests on top of her head, pulling her hair back from her face.
And it’s a good face. High cheekbones, straight nose, really great brows.
“Tam,” Flora says, pulling up short, and I am in no way surprised that this gorgeous creature in front of us is Flora’s ex.
Tamsin’s eyes slide to me in all my grubby, mountain- climbing glory, and I pull off my beanie, attempting to smoothdown my hair, but I can feel my bangs sticking up and off to the side.
“Hi,” I say with a little wave. “So I’ll go on in and let you two—”
Flora threads her arm through mine, and she draws me closer to her side, effectively freezing me in place. “No, stay,” she says. “Tam, this is Quint—Amelia, I mean.”
“Millie, really,” I say, offering Tamsin my hand, and after a beat, she shakes it with a faint “Hullo.”
“Quint’s my roommate at Gregorstoun,” Flora adds, and Tamsin looks back to her, her arms folded loosely over her chest.
“It’s still hard to imagine you there,” she says with a little smile, and Flora finally lets go of my arm to flick her hair out of her eyes.
“It’s not so bad,” she says. “The company is interesting at least.”
Something flickers over Tamsin’s face at that, but then she gives a little laugh. “Good to know. I was hoping I’d get to see you this weekend. I was hoping—”
“Well, you did get to see me, so lucky for you,” Flora interrupts, and then her hand is on my arm again, tugging me toward the house.
We head up the front steps and through the massive door, Tamsin’s eyes on our backs, I’m pretty sure, and only once we’re inside does Flora let out a long breath, reaching up to take off her hat and ruffle her hair.
“Well, that was awful,” she mutters, and I reach out, laying my hand on her arm.
